


To Thine Own Self Be True

by Grimm_Revolver



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - High School, Jock Alec, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Teacher Magnus, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimm_Revolver/pseuds/Grimm_Revolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus owes a friend a favor -- <i>never</i> again-- and ends up covering the drama class at a local high school. The highlight (aka the thing that is going to drive Magnus actually insane) of the of the job, of course, is the annual school play. </p>
<p>And let's be honest, he's pretty sure that performing Shakespeare is going to be exactly as much of a nightmare as he fears, especially when he can't quite find his Hamlet.</p>
<p>And then he does...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Thine Own Self Be True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxy/gifts).



> Jinxy, my lovely dear wonderful friend. Did you actually think you could get away with telling me that it was your birthday without me doing a little something for it? I'm just sorry that this isn't longer/pornier/kinkier/*better* but... it's something and I hope you like it anyway. I tried to get a couple of little things in there that I know you like, so... 
> 
> Happy birthday?!

Magnus groaned inwardly and made a mental note to never again be caught in a position of owing favors to people—especially high school drama teachers with an unfortunate predisposition to such horrors as marriage and pregnancy—as he dismissed _another_ boy from the stage. “Thank you. I’ll post the results at the end of the week,” he said dismissively as the next boy took center stage, this one somehow shorter and pimplier than the last. Because this was the best the school’s drama club had to offer, apparently.

There was no point in listening to the mumbled soliloquy that followed-- so he didn’t. His mind drifted wistfully to better days, when he’d seen Hamlet performed as Shakespeare truly intended it. Literally. Back when the Bard himself had been alive. Ahh, but that had been something to _see_...

“Thank you. I’ll post the results at the end of the week,” he repeated when the current boy looked up from his shoes, Magnus’ cue that he was done. “And on that note,” Magnus clapped his hands together once, “let’s all take a 15 minute break, shall we?” He said, before the next audition could burn his ears off. He needed a drink.

* * *

Magnus hummed happily into his spiked coffee-- just the pick up he needed! Not that it would erase the horrors of the final hour of auditions, but it would make it bearable. Or so he hoped.

His attention was caught, just then, by a door opening further down the hall, and he looked up to see a young man exiting the boy’s bathroom.

“Who are _you?_ ” he muttered to himself, attention riveted by the young man’s appearance. He was tall and broad shouldered, although the lettermen jacket he wore was criminally loose, hiding what Magnus was sure to be a lean, muscular build. His dark hair was a lovely contrast to pale skin and the sharp contours of a face that hinted at some trace of exotic heritage in his ancestry. He was also an almost exact reincarnation of Magnus’ young lover who had played the original Hamlet all those years ago, when the ink had still been fresh from Shakespeare’s pen. 

He had to have him. For the play, that was. Obviously.

Magnus stalked toward the young man, who looked up with a vague expression of surprise on his face at being approached.

“Can I… help you?”

Oh, there were so many things he could do to help Magnus. But how to go about making that happen?

“What’s your name?”

“Alec?” he said slowly, with that particular brand of teenage pissiness that was unique to all high school students, like he couldn’t decide if he were being punked. And, if he weren’t, what level of respect was actually appropriate in this particular scenario.

“You don’t sound certain.”

“Are you a teacher? You…” Alec eyed him up and down skeptically, “really don’t look like a teacher. If you’re not, I have places I need to be.”

“Oh, I’m a teacher alright. And I wouldn’t worry about those places. At least not once you get suspended for…” Magnus made a show of breathing through his nose loudly, his chest rising exaggeratedly. “Is that marijuana I smell?

Alec’s eyes went wide, and his full mouth parted enticingly. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t do that!”

“Hmmm,” Magnus said. He stepped closer to Alec, and Magnus was pleased when he didn’t step backwards.

He slowly reached into first one of Alec’s jacket pockets and then the other. When he slid his hands into the second, it was nothing but a subtle snap of his fingers to summon the offending joint, and he pulled it out with a flourish. “What do we have here, then?”

“That’s not mine!”

“No? I suppose it belongs to one of your friends then? Give me another name and I’ll let you go.”

A complicated series of emotions fluttered across Alec’s face, before settling into grim resignation. Magnus couldn’t help feeling a bit smug that he’d guessed right about Alec’s character.

“I’ll tell you what Alec, I’m feeling… shall we say, generous, today. So I’ll make you a deal. I can make this,” Magnus held up the joint between his thumb and first finger, “go away. But you have to do something for me, first…”

* * *

Alec was magnificent. He’d shed his letterman jacket before stepping onto the stage, and the black tank top he wore underneath only added to the ambiance. Still, looks were only half the equation.

“To be, or not to be: That is the question…”

Alec’s voice was strong and steady, surprisingly so. He read gracefully, and the more he read, the more animated he got. He was mesmerizing to watch.

_“…The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons  
Be all my sins remember'd!”_

The room was utterly silent for a moment after Alec said his last word, and a blush had started to rise high on his cheeks. It only got worse when Magnus stood and started clapping slowly.

“I do believe we have found our Hamlet!”

Alec met his eyes across the short distance between the stage, and the fifth row where Magnus had taken up residence for the auditions. 

* * *

“No. no no no. Like _this_ ,” Magnus said, standing behind Alec and bodily positioning him. Because while his newest protégé could master a soliloquy in a day, he could never quite find his mark on stage. It was frustrating and ironic, to say the least. There was almost no sport in the entire school that Alec didn’t play, making first line in all of them. So it boggled his mind that Alec couldn’t quite grasp the far simpler mechanics of acting. There was a stiffness to his movements that took away all of the promised drama that he could convey with his voice. And it was driving Magnus up the wall.

Which was why they had started with these private sessions.

“Like this?” Alec said, pressing provocatively back against him. Magnus swallowed thickly.

“Yes. No. Like…” He guided Alec’s arm just so, but was interrupted in the movement by Alec turning in the circle that their joined arms made. They were so close…

“So I’ve been thinking,” Alec said, his eyes bright.

“Have you?”

“There’s no way that any of my friends would ever smoke.”

“Oh? So how do you explain…”

“You planted it on me, didn’t you?” Alec interrupted.  
Magnus licked his lips, and held his hands up in surrender. “Are you going to quit, then?”

Alec blinked in surprise and backed up. When his gaze traveled over Magnus’ body, it was serious, considering. And then his attention slipped to the set around them, to the open copy of Hamlet sitting on one of the props.

“No. I like the sword fighting too much.”

Magnus smirked. That was about the only part of the acting Alec _was_ good at, unsurprisingly.

* * *

“Can I help you, Alec?” Magnus looked up from his desk to find Alec loitering in the doorway. He was wearing his letterman jacket again, the wretched thing having not made an appearance since that first day.

“I um… I was just stopping by to tell you that…”

Magnus raised an eyebrow, waiting. Something was obviously wrong with Alec, but he got the feeling that pushing would do more harm than good.

“I’m quitting.”

Magnus felt his heart drop. “Ah.”

“My parents found out about… It’s just that they have certain expectations of me. Family and tradition are big things for us.

“Of course.”

“And there’s a game the same night as the opening night of Hamlet. There’ll be some scouts from the same school that both my parents went to there. I could get a lot of scholarship money.”

“I’m sure you’ll make them very proud,” Magnus couldn’t help but snipe, knowing that he sounded sarcastic.”

“You don’t get it!” I knew you wouldn’t.

“Because I know you. I’ve _gotten_ to know you. You are good at _this_. I see how happy you are on that stage and you can’t tell me that you’ve ever felt anything remotely like that playing any kind of sport.

“We’re not talking about sports or drama club, are we?”

Magnus turned away, refusing to make eye contact any more. “Is this what you want to do?”

“Yeah. I owe my parent’s this much.”

“And what do you owe yourself?” Magnus asked the empty classroom…

* * *

He stared disgustedly at short-and-pimply—Magnus couldn’t actually remember the kid’s name, but he was the only other student who could actually remember all of Hamlet’s lines, even if he did recite them to his own feet.

Shakespeare was likely rolling over in his grave. And as for Magnus, once this play was over, he was _done_.

In fact, it had been a while since he’d visited Denmark. The place did have its charms… Maybe it was time he took a vacation and visited?

“Alright everyone. One minute until...”

“Sorry I’m late!” Someone called, interrupting him.

Magnus turned slowly, his heart racing. And sure enough, there was Alec.

In his basketball shorts.

Their eyes locked. “Well, what are you waiting for? “Get into your costume! And you!” Magnus spun around and sapped his fingers aggressively at short-and-pimply, “Back into your grave digger costume!”

* * *

The play was surprisingly successful. As high school plays went.

Alec was… breathtaking. And he found all his marks. There was an animation to him, an easy confidence to his movements that Magnus hadn’t seen since that first audition. Like he was finally sure of his place on stage.

“So I suppose we have _you_ to thank for our son ruining his future.” A fierce woman said, cornering Magnus in the hustle of congratulations and post-show celebration.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Maryse Lightwood,” the woman said, when Magnus continued to appear—deliberately—confused. She continued, “Alec’s Mo….”

Just then, a man came up to Magnus’ other side. He was older, greying around the temples, and his tweed suit did nothing to diminish the distinguished air he had about him. “I’d like to congratulate you, sir, on a fine production of Shakespeare! You did the Bard proud. I would like to say that I was particularly interested in that young man who played your Hamlet, however. I’m on the board of admissions at NYU’s Tisch School of Arts, and I’d very much like to speak with him.”

“If you’ll excuse me ma’am,” Magnus said smugly to a spluttering Maryse. “I believe this man is interested in meeting your son.”

* * *

Magnus collapsed into the middle seat of the fifth row of the auditorium. Everything was dark, or mostly so at least. The inset runner lights along the outer edges of the aisles, and the few stage lights that he hadn’t gotten around to turning off yet, gave off just enough glow that it wasn’t completely pitch black in the auditorium.

He was tired, but satisfied. The school year wasn’t over of course, but it was all busy work from here on out, and then he’d be done.

Someone sat down next to him. “Thinking about your trip to Denmark?”

“Denmark? Who said anything about Denmark? Magnus raised an eyebrow at where Alec was slumped in the seat beside him.

“Mikey?”

“Who is _Mikey?_ ”

Alec quirked a sly smile at him. “You know, the kid who was supposed to be my understudy? About this high,” Alec gestured with his hand, “pizza face.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“He heard you muttering about taking a vacation to Denmark.”

Magnus hummed noncommittally.

“Maybe I could go with you. It might be fun, before I head off to college.”

“Alec…”

“No. You don’t get to do that.”

Magnus quirked an eyebrow.

“You don’t get to say whatever it was you were going to say!” Alec exclaimed, more impassioned than Magnus had ever seen him, off stage. “In a couple of months you won’t be my teacher, you’ll just be…” Alec licked his lips.

Magnus realized that they’d somehow gravitated closer and closer to each other, the air between them warm from their shared breaths.

“You’ll just be you. The person who finally saw me for me.”

“What if there are things you don’t know about _me_?” Magnus’ magic was a warm, crackling thing beneath his skin, alive and calling to Alec like it recognized a part of itself and was calling it home.

“Then, I think we’ve got time for me to learn them. In Denmark?”

Magnus snorted. “The Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape.”

A slow, triumphant, smile spread across Alec’s face.


End file.
